


daddy kink #2

by truejaku (hereonourstreet)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, Humiliation, Implied Relationships, M/M, No Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereonourstreet/pseuds/truejaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noiz wishes he could connect with Koujaku but can't and he hates that about himself so when he finds the Yakuza trashbags he asks them to break him and ho boy is that an interesting request!! So they do that thing. (Implied one-sided Noijaku, mentioned Minao, definite Vitrinoi) this was SUPPOSED to be daddy kink but it ended up not as heavy as the last one (KANYE SHRUG) also if you dont like Mink then you might not like some of the images that Noiz conjures up, Im not sure how to explain it. just be warned</p>
            </blockquote>





	daddy kink #2

            You left Germany because nobody loved you there, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. You still don’t truly realize it now either, it’s just a nagging, whiney voice in the back of your head that you know is there but you try to ignore. You’re not sure why you thought anyone would love you here. To be fair, you’re not sure you ever actively thought that. You thought things would be different here, but not _that_ different. That would be too jarring.

            Kissing Aoba in the junk shop was the closest you ever got to any sort of real connection, and now he’s gone, somewhere with that huge Scratch guy and you don’t really care. Sometimes you think about what might have happened if you had gotten to know him better, but before you can come up with any ostentatious story about falling into each other’s arms or magically being able to feel his arms anyway, you think about what their sex life must be like. You imagine gigantic monster Mink plowing into Aoba’s tiny twink ass and you laugh to yourself. That’s hilarious. You don’t let yourself think about what it’s like for Aoba to be held in Mink’s giant arms afterwards, giant arms that might make him feel safe and loved, because that would be too romantic for you. You dig your fingernails into your dick as you jerk off thinking about them fucking and it takes you twenty minutes to come.

            If there’s anyone around Midorijima that you give a rat’s ass about anymore it’s Koujaku, and that’s only because he’s fun to fuck with. He’s violent and temperamental and he’s got a short fuse and that’s perfect for you because you like people who are easy to crack. You make a joke about his mother and he has to be held back by his Rib team. That’s hilarious. If someone made a joke about _your_ mother, you’d probably agree and take them out to dinner.

            Koujaku isn’t like that. Koujaku takes those things way too seriously. One of his friends – the one that Aoba fucked up, the one that was in the hospital for almost a year – tells him to calm down and you hear him say, _“If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care. It’s just_ him,” and you will _never_ let anyone know how much that means to you. You get to him. You get to him more than other people.

            He cares about you.

            He hates you, of course. But he cares about you. That’s more than you’ve ever had.

            And through all of your taunting and teasing and fake come-ons and rude insults, there’s another nagging voice that wants you to cut it out. You’re even annoying yourself and deep down, you really wish you _could_ connect with someone. And Koujaku is the most interesting person you know here, so there’s no reason why you couldn’t just quit antagonizing him and try to relate to him on some real level. You want to. You really do. You imagine that Koujaku’s arms would feel fairly safe. And even if you never got to a romantic point with him, you’re pretty sure knowing that someone as strong and devoted as Koujaku had your back would bring a sense of security you’ve never had. One thing you can tell is that Koujaku really, _really_ loves his friends.

            So you want to be his friend.

            You push that away though, because if you think about it too much you might get sad, which is a relatively useless emotion as far as you’re concerned and you have no use for it. Anger and apathy and self-hatred, sure. But not sadness or depression or regret. It’s every man for himself and you’ve never been more aware of that since moving to Midorijima, though at times you witness humanity when strangers help each other with no regard of retribution. Sometimes you catch whispers of true adoration when you notice two lovers tucked away in a corner of the restaurant, happy enough to just be sitting by each other. Sometimes you see a brother hug his sister or best friends reuniting after a long time apart and it’s uncomfortable how empty you feel. You’re just staring, like some perverted spectator, at their uninhibited emotions. The only thing that it sparks in you is pure jealousy. You wish you knew what it was like.

            You wish you knew what it was like, and you know exactly how to get it. But for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. You can’t bring yourself to apologize to Koujaku, to try to get to know him – to try to get to know anyone – to be kind to people and finally accept some compassion in return. You don’t know why you can’t bring yourself to do it; all you know is that something _blocks_ you. Just when you think you’re about to make a breakthrough, your train of thought stops dead in its tracks and instead your mouth throws a random invective and you hate yourself for it.

            You really hate yourself.

            That’s why when you run into those two lunatics that used to follow Aoba around, you look them in the eye – well, you look the shorter one in the eye, since there are four eyes there to try to focus on – and you ask them what it’ll take to convince them to fuck you. Well, you don’t say it exactly like that, but they get the hint. The smaller one smiles delicately and it makes you sick to your stomach. Perfect.

            He hums and asks you for your name again so you give it. He calls you Noiz-san and you roll your eyes at him, and then ask him what his was again. Virus. Right, you remember now. And the bigger one is Trip. Not that it really matters; you just want to know what names to scream when you come. People usually like it better when you use their names.

            You take them back to your place because you might be a masochist but you don’t have a death wish. Who knows where they live or what kind of psychotic set-up they have. They swear they aren’t twins and you wonder if they realize that that makes them sound even creepier. The first thing you do when you get them to your bed is take Trip’s weird fucking pants off because they’re making you nauseous and you can make out the red happy trail and that’s when you realize he must be dyeing. Does he do it to look like Virus? They’re even worse than you thought.

            The second thing you do is climb up on your bed and invite them to tear you apart, but they don’t take you up on your offer. Virus sits on the foot of your bed with his legs crossed daintily, and Trip stands solemnly, hands at his sides, in his ridiculous pink underwear. You ask him wear he got his panties and he laughs. It’s terrifying.

            Virus asks you what you want. You repeat yourself: you want them to fuck you. You just want them to fuck you and fuck you hard and fast and get it over with. You just want them to fuck you so you can feel it. You just want them to fuck the anxiety out of you. You want them to fuck the wanting out of you. Virus smiles and you start to wonder if you’re in over your head.

            “Ah,” he hums, “in that case, why don’t you strip for us?” His voice is high and dreadfully normal, as if he was a simply asking you for a napkin in a restaurant. But you do as he says. You sit up on your knees as you remove all your clothes and throw them to the side of the bed, hat included. Virus strikes you as the kind of guy who would ask you to fold them nicely, but he doesn’t and you don’t know where you got that idea. You sit back when you’re totally naked and you don’t even feel vulnerable. Plenty of people have had you in this position before. But the way their eyes stare at you is different. It’s abnormal. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. They’re totally empty and you have no idea what to expect from them. That’s a little more than you bargained for. You’re worried this risk is not going to pay off.

            “Thank you,” Virus says and you feel your dick twitch a little. That’s strange. You wonder what made it do that. His voice is still ordinary and uncalculating. “Why don’t you tell us what you want from us?”

            “I’ve told you twice already,” you say. “I want your dicks in my ass.”

            “At the same time?” Trip pipes up and the irritation is visible in Virus’s stitched brow.

            “Sure,” you answer. “Whatever you want.”

            “I notice your piercings,” Virus interrupts. “Did they hurt to receive?”

            You frown.

            “No. Now will you fuck me?”

            “Why did you get them?”

            You frown more. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t worth it. You roll your eyes and lean back against your pillows. Virus doesn’t like that.

            “Ah,” he singsongs. “Please answer the question. And look at me while you’re speaking to me.”

            There goes your dick again. Your eyes dart to Trip at first, but he’s giving you no indication of how to respond. He just stands there, completely soulless. You may actually be a little bit scared right now and at that realization, your cock stirs again. You lick your bottom lip and look Virus in the eyes.

            “I wanted them.”

            “Why?”

            “Rebellious teenager, you know. That sort of shit.”

            “I see.”

            Virus stands up and turns to Trip. He nods his head toward you and Trip is swiftly on top of you, lifting your legs up and before you know it, your knees are by your ears and Trip’s face is only inches from yours. You may gasp a little bit, you’re not sure. Trip still doesn’t make any indication that he’s feeling anything but indifference.

            “Trip will open you, if that’s okay,” Virus says from somewhere, you’re not even sure. He sounds so far away because the only thing in your field of vision is Trip. Huge, burly Trip, and his arms do not feel safe whatsoever.

            A finger is suddenly inside you, and you’ve always been a little more sensitive on the inside, so you bite down hard on your bottom lip. Your sense of taste is far stronger than your sense of pain, even in your ass, but it’s still uncomfortable and you still wiggle a bit to try to get away. Trip holds you down with one hand.

            “You fuckers ever heard of lube?”

            Your question goes unanswered. Trip works his finger in and out of you as you hear Virus pacing the room in the background.

            “How old are you, Noiz-san?”

            “Nineteen,” you answer without thinking. Then you remember you’re actually twenty now. Whatever.

            “Nineteen,” Virus repeats. “So young to be this depraved already. What on earth business do you have dealing with two men such as us?”

            You furrow your brows. What the fuck is this guy talking about? You hope that not answering will deter him from further comments, but something tells you that isn’t the case. Trip is still staring down at you, expressionless, while his one finger works inside of you. It’s dry, but you’re getting used to it. You can’t look anywhere but right in his eyes as Virus keeps speaking:

            “Youths today are so unfortunate. We used to see it every day when we patrolled. Didn’t we, Trip?”

            “Uh huh,” he answers. His breath smells damp.

            “You’re not from Japan, are you?”

            You don’t answer right away because Trip’s second finger takes your voice away. You don’t react much other than to gulp and lurch forward, which you’re pretty sure Virus can’t see. Trip can though, and he smiles down at you without a word.

            “Please answer the question.”

            “No, I’m not from Japan,” you say quickly.

            “I thought so,” Virus presses on. “I’m not sure I’m particularly interested in where you’re from, though. Not yet, at least. How long have you been here?”

            You keep your mouth shut. This isn’t what you signed up for.

            “You should answer him,” comes Trip’s voice unexpectedly and you can only stare at him as you gather your wits.

            “A – year,” you finally choke out.

            “That’s quite a while,” Virus notes. “You must have been running away from something.”

            Now your heart starts racing and Trip’s fingers are pain, through and through. Still, your dick stirs again and when you look down you see it’s half-hard. That has to be some sort of record. You reach down to grab it and you’re half expecting Trip to stop you but he doesn’t. You dig your nails into the underside of the head and shut your eyes tight, focusing on all the discomfort. You feel your dick get harder and harder in your hand.

            “What were you running away from, Noiz-san?”

            You dig your nails in deeper. You clench your eyelids tighter. Trip’s fingers scissor apart abruptly and you grunt.

            “Noiz-san,” Virus sings again. “Please answer my question.”

            “Nothing,” you groan.

            “Please answer my question _truthfully_ ,” Virus adds and his voice is as carefree and ordinary as before. It’s as if he’s asking if you have the time or know where the closest restroom is. You think you’d be less terrified if they’d just be rough and awful with you.

            You still don’t know how to answer. You still can’t open your eyes, either, and when Virus says, “ _Noiz-san. Please answer my question or there will be consequences,”_ Trip shoves in his third finger. Maybe it’s the pain – maybe it’s the pleasure – maybe it’s the fear, but your eyes shoot open and you gasp it:

            _“Parents_.”

            Trip takes his fingers out and pulls you up toward him. You go barreling forward and have to brace yourself against him. You end up hugging him and he holds your waist with one arm as he uses the other to lower his briefs. Your chin rests on his shoulder and he’s so much bigger than you – both in height and in muscle – and that’s when you think of Koujaku. You don’t desire him sexually but emotionally; something about his tired eyes appeal to you in this moment and you wish that he was here. You suddenly feel a sense of warmth when you imagine Koujaku’s face. You can only assume a sense of it because warmth is completely unknown to you. You suspect if you felt anything right now it would only be a sharp chill. It’s Koujaku’s face that reminds you why you wanted this. Why you deserve this.

            Trip shoves you down unceremoniously and almost his entire length is filling you and you wheeze sharply. It’s the most sensation you can feel, and even then it’s not much. It’s more of a heavy pressure than a pain, and you’re more shocked than anything.

Then you can feel Virus creep up slowly behind you. He must have crawled around when you were distracted and Trip lets you fall backwards into Virus’s body. Then you realize what’s going to happen and you do nothing to stop it. It might be the only way you can really feel something.

            You can suddenly hear Virus’s breath against your ear and it’s just as stale as Trip’s. He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his nails down your arms, not that you can feel it. Trip hasn’t moved since he entered you; he’s simply let you slide down his dick slowly and he’s almost to the hilt. You’ve done this without lube before but you’re not sure you can take _two_ dicks without it.

            “Sp – ” you stutter, and Virus hums.

            “What was that?”

            “Spit –?” you say. You need something. If Virus is going to enter you too, you need _something_.

            “Of course,” he says. You think he’s going to spit into his hand but instead he clicks his tongue loudly into your ear. “Trip.”

            “Hm?” Trip drawls, looking over at him. “Oh…”

            He spits into his palm and rubs it against your ass uselessly. You’d laugh if you weren’t so anxious that he not be such a fucking dumbass.

            “Fingers, Trip,” Virus scolds.

            Trip doesn’t even react to Virus’s words; his fingers are up and in your mouth before you know it, and he moves them in and out, slicking them up as best he can. They taste like sweat and frosting and dirt and you gag when they go too far, but you desperately want some sort of lubrication so let him keep going. He doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose, he’s just rough and adamant and succinct. He wipes around your tongue before he takes his fingers out of your mouth, trying to gather up as much saliva as he can. Then you feel him move his hand down but you don’t think he puts his fingers inside you; at least, you can’t feel it if he does. Then Virus’s grip tightens and you hear him exhale slowly against your ear again. Trip is coating his dick with your spit and you doubt it’s going to help very much.

            Virus excels at keeping his reactions to a minimum, and he slides his dick next to Trip’s and you think you feel the head poking at your entrance but at this point you don’t care, you just want to feel something. When he starts to enter, you feel more pressure building up in your lower half and your eyes shut and your head falls forward against Trip’s shoulder again. You hear him chuckle softly. Virus sputters as he presses up and you can tell he’s not all the way in, but it’s finally enough to feel something.

            “Noiz-san…” he chides, “I think I know something that will help you.”

            You can’t answer. You make a noise on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find real words to use right now. He shifts and you realize they’re awkwardly trying to push into you at the same time. Trip is like a dog; unrestrained and jumping at you with abandon. But Virus is slow and precise and a serious antithesis to all of Trip’s rough energy. He’s calming him down, you realize.

            Fuck. They were made for each other.

            Virus’s finger finds its way under your chin and tips your head back.

            “Why don’t you refer to us as ‘Daddy’ from now on?”

            Daddy? Sure. Okay.

            No, wait. You think of your own father. You don’t want to do that.

            Then Virus makes a final shove inside of you and you cry out. Trip shudders and the three of you sit like that for a moment, your ass trying to acclimate to the girth. You’re grateful when Trip pulls out to allow Virus in more, and before you know it, they have a steady rhythm of rocking into you, first Trip and then Virus, and it’s awkward and you’re not exactly sure either of them are totally inside of you, but at least there’s not two at once. You’re not sure you’re particularly against taking more than one at a time, but you’d probably want lube and some sort of safe word. Something tells you these two don’t use safe words.

            “Hey,” Trip grunts, “how does it feel?”

            You moan. You just wanted them to fuck you until you didn’t have to think anymore, but instead they’ve conjured up all these visions of your dad and Koujaku and Mink’s arms in your head. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you find it comforting all the same. They’re indulging your self-hatred even if they don’t know it.

            Trip leans back a bit and grabs your face in his thumb and forefinger.

            “How does it feel?” he repeats bluntly. He’s forceful, but he doesn’t seem mad.

            “Fine,” you finally say. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

            “That’s rude,” Virus hisses in your ear. “A good boy would never use language like that.”

            You _hate_ that your dick responds to that. You _hate_ that it jumps at that more than it’s reacted to anything so far and you _hate_ that you _really, really want this._

            “You should apologize,” Trip says.

            “Absolutely,” Virus adds.

            You can’t say anything as they both keep pitching back and forth into you and if there was any spit before, it’s dried up by now. That’s fine. You hate yourself enough by now to know you deserve it.

            “ _Apologize_ ,” Trip insists, leaning forward and sinking his teeth into the skin on your shoulder. You can hardly feel it and suddenly you find your voice as you laugh darkly.

            “Have to bite – way harder than that – ”

            “Oh?” Trip pulls back and grins, then opens his mouth. He looks like an idiotic fish at first, but then he’s back on your skin and you can finally feel it, you can finally feel that as _pain_ and not just pressure, and it makes your toes curl.

            “Like that,” you wince and Virus makes a noise from the back of his throat.

            “I see,” he says. He reaches around and wraps his fingers around your dick and to your surprise, he digs his nails into it. “This is what you were doing earlier, yes?” He must have seen you scraping your nails against your cock before. You don’t say anything; you just let him press his nails as hard as he can into your dick as Trip quite literally chews down your collarbone as if you were meat on a bone. The whole while they’re still fucking you back and forth when Virus finally says, _“You are such a shame.”_

            It spills from your lips before you can do anything – you’re not crying, but you do sob it out – _“I’m sorry_.” Virus prompts you further.

            “You’re sorry – what?”

            “I’m sorry…” you trail off to take a deep breath, “ _Daddy._ ”

            That’s it. That’s what you wanted, even if you didn’t know it. You liked that. It’s terrible and shameful and wrong. Just like you.

            You’ve heard that people feel a stinging behind their eyes when they’re about to cry. You’ve never felt that. All you know is that you start to leak a few tears – nothing that these two will notice, but they’re there. And you only have to say it once for both of them to seem satisfied and they continue to fuck you in relative silence. They only speak to each other from now on, and you don’t even care to register what they’re saying.

            That was all they wanted. They just wanted to see if you would say it. They just wanted to see if they could steal it from you and you realize that it took surprisingly little to break you apart. Virus seemed capable of long monologues that he didn’t get to use. Trip barely spoke at all.

            You feel like they just got here when suddenly you feel something slick inside you and you realize Trip’s already come. They still continue as they were and you’re not sure when Virus comes but then you’re empty – completely empty and it’s just as uncomfortable as when you were full. Then you’re suddenly lying back on your pillows, and there’s come on your stomach. It’s yours. When did you come? Did it feel good? Fuck.

            You realize you lost track of time. You must have been in and out and in a daze after breathing that awful word, and when you turn your head, Trip is staring at you with his head cocked.

            “Are you alright, Noiz-san?” You turn to the other side and Virus is already re-dressed and tying his tie. You blink once and turn back to Trip. He’s still naked from the waist down. You sit up on your elbows and look around.

            “I’m fine,” you say idly. Then, without thinking, “What are you two doing tomorrow?”

            Virus’s eyes dart to Trip, who grins so wide that you’re not that terrified of it anymore.

            “Ah, we’ll find you,” Trip says dully. “Sometime. Soon.”

            He finally gets up and re-dresses as well, and as you watch them leave your room you sit back and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. You assumed you’d have a lot to think about but your mind is blank.

            You grab a pillow that fell to the floor and wrap it around your shoulders. You can’t feel if it’s soft or warm or protective, and that’s when you realize that even Koujaku’s arms wouldn’t help you feel anything.

            You shove the pillow off the bed and fall asleep thinking about how hard you’d have to punch Koujaku in the mouth in order to feel it in your knuckles. Probably pretty hard. Probably as hard as you’d like to punch your father, but you don’t let yourself think about that. Just Koujaku. Just lovely, dumbass Koujaku.  


**Author's Note:**

> hmmm this was actually a vent fic i decided to go ahead and share so 8) 8) 8)
> 
> im still getting the feel for writing all these characters so there are surely bits that are strange and hopefully one day i will be embarrassed by it because i will have learned to write them better but here


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